


Blow Your House Down

by sanctuary_for_all



Category: Fairy Tales & Related Fandoms, Kinder- und Hausmärchen | Grimm's Fairy Tales, Three Little Pigs (Fairy Tale)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, F/M, Revisionist Fairy Tale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-12
Updated: 2016-02-11
Packaged: 2018-04-14 06:38:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4554513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanctuary_for_all/pseuds/sanctuary_for_all
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hortensia, a respectable pig, needs to take a job with the Big Bad Wolf in order to pay off her brothers' debt. The experience leaves her questioning who's side she's really on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Horty—"

"Call me that again, and I might just let the wolf have you."

Gerald's mouth dropped open as he stared at his younger sister, those ridiculous sunglasses he insisted on wearing sliding down his porcine nose. Francis, the oldest of the three, looked equally shocked. "Hortensia! You don't talk like that!"

_I do when I've finally lost my temper with you both_. Hortensia bit her tongue to keep from saying the thought out loud, reminding herself that her older brothers had seemed genuinely frightened when they'd knocked on the door of the little brick house she rented. It wasn't their fault she'd been on her way to a job interview when they'd chosen to have their crisis. "I'm sorry. I'm sure it must have been terrible, but I honestly don't know what you expect me to do. It's not as if this Mr. Wolf threatened you directly, did he? You were snooping around where you weren't welcome, and  just happened to see him...."

Hortensia hesitated, trying to find a polite way to say "eat an employee." Sometimes, manners were the only thing that truly seemed to remind people that they no longer walked around on four feet.  "...take care of a personnel issue in a manner you found disturbing. You're grown pigs. It's not as if I can march over there and tell him off for you."

At that, Francis immediately started to look uncomfortable. Gerald, unfortunately, had never been embarrassed about anything. "We'd need you to do a little more than that, Hort—" He was briefly cut off by a firm nudge from his brother. "—ensia. That thing we were doing kind of fell through, and we can't exactly pay him back the 10,000 credit slips when they're due next week."

"You—" She stopped when she felt the urge to shout build, making herself run though her 12 times tables until she dared trust her voice again. "You're here to ask me for the money, aren't you." The rough metal fingers of the enchanted hand she wore over her hoof curled into a fist, moving far more reliably than they did when she actually meant to use them.

Francis, always the more intelligent of the two, held his hooves out in a rush to reassure. "We don't need the whole amount, H. if you just give us half, we can talk to a few people—"

Staring at him, Hortensia noticed something for the first time. "Where's your hand?" she asked, feeling a moment of sympathy threaten. The hand had been the latest model, and he'd loved it dearly. If he thought he was enough danger that he'd actually pawned it....

Francis looked down at his bare hoof with the grimace. "The tables were against me last night. Lucille cut me off before I could get in debt to her, too, but if I had something to work with I'm sure I could get both her and the tables turned back aroun—"

Sympathy vanished, along with what was left of her patience. "I lost my job last week," she announced, voice flat.

The news plunged the room into silence, broken only by the sound of Gerald's sunglasses hitting the floor. "Why didn't you tell us?" Francis asked finally, looking sick.

Hortensia sighed. "What could you have done? It was unusual that I had a job at a human-owned business to begin with." She'd worked in the back, away from the customers, but as a bookkeeper she probably would have been there even if the store had been in what even she euphemistically referred to as "Animal Town."

Gerald, tactless as always, narrowed his eyes at her. "Did you screw up—"

Francis muzzled him, cutting off the rest of the sentence, but Hortense still narrowed her eyes at him. "The store owner is moving to be near her sister in Far Away. We were all let go." There was infinitely more she could have added, but none of it had ever made a difference before.

She took a deep breath, regretting every single time she'd given them money over the years and let them pretend they'd pay her back eventually. "I'm sorry, both of you. But I don't have any money to give you. My savings is barely enough to cover my rent for the next few months."

Gerald broke free of Francis's hold, his small eyes wide with sudden terror as he hurried towards her. "He'll eat us! You should have seen those teeth, Hortensia! Once he's done, all that will be left of either of us is whatever he picks out from between his teeth!"

Over his shoulder, she could see Francis's snout quiver. "When he finds out we can't pay, he won't have any reason to keep us alive. We don't have anyone else to go to."

Hortensia looked at them both, wishing more than anything that even one of her other litter-mates had been born with the ability to think and speak. Unfortunately, these two were all she had. "I don't have the money. But I'll see if there's anything I can do."


	2. Chapter 2

The building looked as though it had been constructed from the sturdier bits of a garbage pile, clearly an eyesore even by the lower standards of this part of town. The rooms her brothers rented were only slightly more stable than this, though they at least had made an effort with the paint. Here, the windows were boarded up, and the dust looked like it hadn't been disturbed for months.

Hortensia looked down at the note pinched between her hoof, sighing when she realized the address was indeed correct. Tucking it back into her handbag, she lifted her chin and pushed open the front door.

The wolf, from what she could see of him, matched the building. He sat at a desk, furry head bent low over what looked like an old-fashioned ledger book. He kept flipping pages, swearing in what sounded like a few different languages as his magically transformed fingers ran down the columns of numbers. There was a red stain at the corner of one of the pages that might have been blood.

A moment later, she realized that she had been mistaken. There were several red stains.

He hadn't looked up yet, and there was a moment when Hortensia gave serious thought to leaving. Magically-induced intelligence was little help when every instinct in your body was screaming at you to run or hide from the predator you were so foolishly striding towards. She wondered, sometimes, if humans ever felt like prey.

It was at that moment the wolf finally chose to raise his head, finally acknowledging her presence. For an instant there was no expression on his face, then his brow lowered. “No.” Then he returned his ledger, muttering again as he made a note next to one entry.

The dismissal was clear and miraculously non-violent. But Hortensia knew herself – if she went home, she would eventually give her brothers what money she had. She cleared her throat. “I need to speak with you.”

“No, you don’t.” This time, the wolf didn’t even look up. “You think you do, because you’re convinced you need something expensive and the squirrels over at the bank decided you couldn’t be trusted with a loan. But you’re in over your head here, pig. I don’t deal with fresh meat.”

Her hoof curled more tightly around her purse strap, telling herself that he had used the term “meat” in a deliberate attempt to frighten her. “Mr. Wolf—“

His head jerked back up, teeth bared in a snarl that had her backing up a few steps before she’d realized she was moving. “I said NO!”

Hortensia stopped only when she felt her back against the door, fear making her prosthetic hand malfunction as she scrambled for the handle. Familiar frustration at the device rose up, cutting through the fear and bringing it back down to manageable levels.

Still, she stayed next to the door as she spoke again, hurrying her words in the hope of being able to get a complete sentence out. “I’m not here about a loan.”

He made a scoffing noise as he returned his attention to the ledger. “Then you made a wrong turn somewhere.”

Hortensia was amazed to find herself genuinely annoyed at him, years of frustration caused by her brothers and her hand choosing an entirely inappropriate moment to rise up and overwhelm her. “If this is how you behave with potential customers, it’s a wonder _anyone_ is foolish enough to come to you in the first place!”

As soon as the words were out she clapped a hoof over her mouth, horrified, but the wolf’s mouth twitched with something that might have been amusement. “Fine.” He leaned back in his chair, gesturing in exactly the right way to make his claws gleam in the weak sunlight. “How may I help you, madam?”

He drawled the last word out nearly enough to make it an insult, but she’d faced worse in nearly every dress shop she’d stepped into. As long as death threats weren’t involved, she could survive it. "My brothers owe you money they won’t be able to repay. I am here to offer an alternate solution."

 The wolf didn’t laugh, but it seemed like a near thing. "Oh, please tell me you’re going to try appealing to the goodness of my heart. I need a good joke after the day I've had."

She bit her tongue against a smart comment. "No, actually. I was going to offer to be your new accountant."

The derision disappeared from his face, and he narrowed his eyes at her as if seeing her for the first time. "You're serious."

Hortensia lifted her non-existent chin slightly. "Would you like to see my references?"

The wolf actually blinked at that. Then he shook his head slightly. "I still don't see how this connects to the debt your brothers supposedly owe me." He looked back down at the ledger, flipping through the pages. "You never mentioned their names."

She risked taking a step away from the door. "Francis and Gerald Jones."

The wolf froze, expression darkening as he slammed the book closed. "I remember those two." He turned the glare on Hortensia, making her deeply regret the fact that the door was no longer at her back. "If this is their idea somehow, you have 10 seconds to get out of my office."  She swallowed, hurriedly shaking her head, and he relaxed slightly. "Okay, then. Explain."

The metal finger joints on her prosthetic made a faint squealing noise as she forced them to relax. Her racing heart, unfortunately, was slightly less obedient. "You hire me for whatever you were paying your previous accountant, but keep half of it and put it towards my brothers' debt. You won't get the money as quickly as you wanted, but at least you'll get it."

He still watched her, as if trying to figure something out, then rubbed a modified paw over his muzzle. "You never mentioned your name."

She risked another step forward. "Hortensia Jones."

His brows lifted. "Hortensia, huh? That's a little more creative than ident agents usually handed out."

She smoothed her skirt down with her hoof, hoping it would be enough to hide her embarrassment. It had been a silly moment of vanity, and her only comfort was that few people noticed her enough to comment on it. "It was Hortense, originally. I ... changed it a little before they printed the final card."

The wolf – she really should learn his proper name – grinned at her. Though the expression showed the same amount of very sharp teeth as the snarl, it was somehow not terrifying in the slightest. "A rebel. I never would have guessed."

She cleared her throat, feeling oddly unsettled. "Mr. Wolf, I need to know if you agree to the arrangement or not."

The lightness of the moment disappeared as he flipped the ledger around to face her. "And I need to know exactly how much your predecessor was skimming off the top."

Encouraged by his choice of words, Hortensia moved close enough that she could get a better look at the ledger. "I'd say about 10 percent, given the amounts owed by the non-payees with a small checkmark next to their names. I presume they did pay, and he told you they didn't in order to cover the amount of money he took. It adds up to nearly the correct amount."

The wolf swore again. "I _knew_ I should have tried to track one of them down," he muttered to himself, the words almost a growl. He scowled, but Hortensia suspected the expression was directed at her departed predecessor, not at her.

Emboldened, she took a deep breath. "Sir?"

He met her eyes again.  "What do you get out of this?"

She opened her mouth, then closed it, trying and failing to find a polite answer that would be at all believable. "I would... They...." She sighed, giving up. "I liked all of my other options less than this."

He shot her a disbelieving look. "Less than working for the big scary predator?"

She shrugged, not sure what else she could say. "They’re my family."

 The wolf considered this, then threw his hands up in the air. "Fine. You can start tomorrow."

Hortensia didn't know whether to feel relieved or worried. 


	3. Chapter 3

When she told her brothers, there was something almost like awe in Francis’s eyes. “H,” he breathed. “That’s _brilliant_.”

Even Gerald seemed somewhat impressed. “You really saved our bacon, sis.” When Hortensia wrinkled her snout at the tackiness of the joke, he laughed. “Just make sure he doesn’t take _your_ bacon in exchange.”

“He’s right.” Francis nodded, expression solemn. “You need to be careful.”

Hortensia resisted the urge to shiver. “You’re both such a comfort.”

000

The next day, she realized that potential death was hardly the worst horror that awaited her.

“This is a crime against math,” she muttered to herself, finally deciding that the only way this particular column of numbers made any sense was if her predecessor had put the decimal point in entirely the wrong place. She made the switch and ran the numbers again, with the new total being five credits off his original count. Though that was still completely unacceptable, it was at least an improvement over the 500 credit difference from before.

Wishing she could slam the pencil down on the table – wresting it free of her prosthetic fingers to do so would be far more trouble than it was worth – Hortensia contented herself with closing her eyes for a moment as she attempted to rub away her impending headache with her hoof. She wasn’t certain whether her predecessor had been lazy, incompetent or had skimmed far more than she’d initially realized, but if he had still been breathing she would have certainly hunted him down and given him a good hard slap.

Her attention was distracted by a sudden shriek from the front of the building, where her new employer had met with a steady stream of clients for most of the morning. This must be someone who was behind on his or her payments – he normally didn’t threaten someone who was coming to him the first time. She imagined that those he deemed a lost cause weren’t given enough warning to make a sound of any kind.

She shivered a little at the thought, but her heart wasn’t really in it. The back room she worked in was even dimmer than the front of the building, despite the lamp Mr. Wolf had brought her, and at the moment she thought risking occasional blood spatter might be worth having more light to see the ledger with.

But wishing had never moved her out of the back room before, so she took a deep breath and returned to the still-defiant column of numbers. The ensuing battle was involving enough that she almost didn’t notice when the door swung open. “50 credits from Tom Brer,” Mr. Wolf announced, voice and body radiating annoyance as he opened the safe next to her and tossed the money inside.

Hortensia made a note on the paper next to her, trying to determine whether she should warn him about the ledger or if it would simply make things worse. Deciding that he would simply find out about it anyway, she called out to him as he was about to open the door. “I may have been wrong about how much my predecessor skimmed.”

He stopped, turning around to look at her. “You seemed pretty sure of yourself.”

Hortensia sighed. This was why she hated claiming something before she was absolutely certain she could back it up. “That was before I knew what a mess these ledger books were in,” she explained as patiently as possible. “On the surface it looks as though my predecessor was...” She hesitated, hunting for a word that wasn’t quite as insulting as the ones her frustration kept suggesting.

Mr. Wolf, however, had no such concerns. “An idiot?”

She gave in. “Well, yes. But it’s also possible this is part of some complex scheme he used to hide hundreds of thousands of credits. I simply can’t say for certain until I have more of it sorted out.”

He moved closer, leaning over the ledger so he could get a better look. "I might not be that great at math, but I keep better track of my money than that. No matter how complicated his plan was, he'd have been dead long before he made off with that much money."

It was disconcerting, having that much fur suddenly so close to her face. Her ear twitched, and she only felt more embarrassed when she felt it brush against his shoulder. "I could help you,” she found herself saying, horrified as she heard the words slip out. She had spent _years_ training herself to control her tongue better than that. "Improve at math, I mean."

Her boss – not to mention someone who could kill her, she _must_ remember things like that – straightened and gave her a look that seemed torn between amusement and concern for her sanity. "I'm fine, thanks." Still, it was something of a relief when he took a step back and looked around the room. "The lamp's not doing much, is it?"

Though she'd thought the same thing herself, it seemed wrong to simply agree with him. "It would be worse if I didn't have it." She glanced back down at the ledger, resisting the urge to squint at the tangle of numbers in front of her. "Though if this was the lighting he had to deal with, I suppose I should think more kindly about my predecessor."

Mr. Wolf – she still didn't understand why it felt so awkward to think of him like that – shook his head. "Don't give him the excuse. He was up front with me."

Hortensia's own head snapped up at that piece of news. “Then why—” She caught herself this time, looking down until she could be certain her expression was even again. “Never mind.”

She could feel him looking at her. “Spill.”

Hortensia took a deep breath, hoping to at least moderate the bitterness that had risen up in her throat. She was accustomed to back rooms, to being hidden away from customers. More importantly, she had long ago given up beginning fights she had no hope of winning.

But to be treated as less than such a _terrible_ accountant….

Hortensia lifted her head, every word careful. “If he was in the front with you, I was wondering why you decided to put me back here.”           

The surprise on his face was obvious. "Thought you'd feel safer with at least a door between us," he said finally.

 _Oh._ Hortensia swallowed, the bitterness disappearing. It hadn’t occurred to her that he might be attempting to consider her feelings on the matter. "While that's … that’s very thoughtful, I think the added light is more important right now." She stood, every move deliberate as she closed the ledger and rested the paper on top of it. "If you need me to come back here while you're meeting with a client, Mr. Wolf—"

"Don't call me that," he said gruffly, opening the door for her. "Makes me feel old."

She hefted the book into her arms, almost more unsettled than she had been during their first meeting. It was embarrassing, how unprepared she was for kindness. "What would you like me to call you, then?"

"Frank called me Boss."

She hesitated, once again torn between what she should say and what she wanted to say. Astonishingly, the latter won once again. "Forgive me if I'd rather not do anything that reminded you of my predecessor."

"Nothing to forgive." He grinned, moving around behind her to pick up the table she'd been using. "It's a smart life plan."

"That still doesn't answer my question, Mr. Wolf.”

"Rebel." She couldn't see his expression, but he didn't sound upset. "Call me B.B."

Hortensia considered this. "You don't feel that's too forward?"

He moved past her to set the table in place. "I'd also accept His Supreme Majesty."

"B.B. it is, then."


	4. Chapter 4

"Hey, now that you're in with the wolf, do you think he'd—"

"No, Gerald. He said you're cut off."

"Aw, come on—"

"No. Please don't ask me again."

000

It was astonishing how quickly the days passed into weeks. No one had been eaten yet, the clients always sufficiently terrified by the mere possibility that they scraped together at least a minimum payment. No matter how small it was, B.B. always accepted it.

Hortensia very carefully didn’t question him about it. But apparently her face was no longer quite as blank as it once was, and he caught something in it after a particularly tragic mouse had skittered out the door.

“Don’t look at me like I’ve suddenly grown a heart or something,” he’d growled. “If I eat them, they can’t pay me.”

She’d looked down at the ledger to hide the small smile that crept onto her face. “I found a particularly fascinating study journal that said wolves in the wild aren’t nearly as violent as their reputation suggests.”

There was only silence, and Hortensia was suddenly, painfully certain she’d gone too far. Her smile slipped, and she took a breath as she tried to formulate an apology that might be at all suitable.

Before she could, however, B.B. spoke. “Those are wolves in packs,” he said finally, the words quiet. “Lone wolves are the ones you have to be careful of.”

Hortensia stayed absolutely still, firmly trying to tell herself that the sadness in his voice wasn’t as painfully familiar as it sounded. The fact that he hadn’t yelled at her for overstepping her bounds didn’t mean that he wanted her understanding. They didn’t know each other well enough.

Truthfully, there was no one she knew well enough.

In the silence, B.B. cleared his throat. “Back to work, Hortensia. It’s not polite to pity your boss.”

She lifted her head at that, watching him avoid her eyes. Next to her, the fingers of her metal hand slowly creaked into a fist.

Hortensia knew how much pity could burn.

She took a deep breath. “Actually, I was surprised you used the term ‘lone wolf,’ given how many times someone in your profession would have been subjected to the obvious pun.”

For a moment, he simply stared at her. Then, to her astonishment, he threw back his head and laughed.

As she returned to her work, the smile slowly returned to Hortensia’s face. Apparently, he’d never heard that one before.


	5. Chapter 5

"Are you okay, H? I mean, with everything?"

Hortensia turned, surprised at what sounded like genuine concern in Francis's voice. "I'm fine." She watched him, waiting for the other shoe to drop. "Though not financially, if that's what you mean. I'm sorry, but I'm still in no position to be able to loan you money."

Her brother's look of offense was almost comical. "That's not what I meant at all!" Then he touched her shoulder, eyes full of what appeared to be genuine concern, and it was suddenly not funny anymore. "I'm just worried about you."

Hortensia didn't respond for a second, surprised and oddly relieved by the thought that he had somehow picked up on her own financial worries. There was a contract on the table from the individual who was apparently her new landlord – it seemed that the switch somehow allowed them to negate what remained of the previous rental contracts – and the increase in rent would wreak havoc on her carefully regulated financial plans.

But if she didn't sign it, she'd have no home at all. And she had only until the end of the month to decide.

"It's okay," she told him, knowing there was nothing he could do but grateful he had noticed. "I'll hate moving, but if I have to I'm sure I—"

She stopped when Francis blinked, clearly confused. "You're scared enough of the wolf you're thinking about moving?"  

Hortensia just looked at him, trying to figure out where the conversation had taken a wrong turn. "I didn't say anything about—" She caught herself before using the too-familiar version of his name. "—Mr. Wolf."

"I was." Frances patted her shoulder. "I know you're working for him for our sakes, but what if he does something to you. What if he gets...." He gave a shudder that was just a touch too melodramatic to be believable. "...hungry?"

She stepped back so that he was no longer touching her, careful to mask her disappointment. She really should be more used to being ignored by now. "Don't be ridiculous." She turned, making sure her voice was brisk as she hunted for something to clean. "Like I told you, I'm fine."

000

At work the next day, Hortensia found it surprisingly hard to maintain the lie. Somehow she'd gotten out of the habit of watching everything she said and did quite so carefully, and it was all too easy to let herself start dwelling on the problem waiting for her at home.

She would have to move, there was no help for it, but that didn't solve the problem of being able to find someplace to move _to_. There weren't that many open rental properties in Animal Town – developers had little interest in investing their money here – and those that did normally charged by the week. She would likely have to take one of those for a little while whether she wanted to or not, which meant she would have to find someplace to store her things....

"You haven't heard a single word I've said, have you?"

Hortensia blinked, horrified to realize that B.B. was entirely correct. "Forgive me." She looked back down at the ledger, scanning for the name of the client who had just left.  The pencil was poised, ready to note the amount of his most recent payment, but her mind drew a blank when it came to recalling the number he had undoubtedly just told her.

There had to be a word more severe than horrified.

She looked up to find B.B. leaning back in his chair, a speculative expression on his face. "I was right, wasn't I?"

"Yes, I'm so sorry. There's no excuse." She rubbed her cheek with her hoof, forcibly pushing aside thoughts of her financial situation. "Can you please repeat the amount?"

"Fifty credits." B.B.'s voice stayed perfectly even, but his gaze sharpened as he watched her write. "Where were you, just now?"

Hortensia stopped the pencil, but she wasn't quite brave enough to lift her head. "Not where I should have been. As I said, I—"

"Stop saying you're sorry." The words were still calm, but there was just a little bit of a growl to them. "What I want is the answer to the question I just asked you."

She exhaled, telling herself that this was merely a practical exchange of information. He wasn't concerned, necessarily. He was simply a surprisingly kind boss who wanted his employee functional again. "Apparently, I have a new landlord, which somehow justifies a new contract with a much higher rent. Since my already precarious financial situation can't handle the increase, I have until the end of the month to either find a new home or move everything I have to a storage unit."

For a moment, there was only silence. Then his brow lowered. "You live in the nice part of town, don't you?"

Hortensia nodded. She'd moved into the little brick house after getting her last job, the human-run shops always paying better than the animal-owned stores in town. "It was quieter there."

B.B. leaned forward again, expression caught somewhere between a smirk and a grimace. "Not to mention fancier."

"Sturdier," she corrected, though now she wondered if that was the right word at all. This building gave her an oddly similar feeling, despite the fact that it appeared ready to fall down at the slightest gust of wind. "It seemed ... reliable. I was drawn to that."

B.B. didn't say anything for a moment. "We could drop the percentage for a little while," he said finally. "I don't want to go below 25, and it'll mean you work for me longer, but it'll let you stay where you are."

"Thank you," Hortensia began, oddly relieved at even the misplaced offer to help. "But I'm afraid that won't—"

"—be much help the next time they decide to jack the rent on you?" B.B. finished. He nodded thoughtfully, and she wondered if that had been some kind of test. "True. Math nut like you wouldn't stand for letting someone else run the numbers like that."

She narrowed her eyes at him, no longer certain what was happening in this conversation. "I beg your pardon?"

"Calm down, Hortensia." She tried hard not to pay attention to the warmth she swore she could hear in his voice. "Wasn't saying it was a bad thing."

It occurred to her then that B.B. always said her full name, never once trying to chop it into one of the small collection of ugly or overly simplistic nicknames at her disposal. One more consideration she was entirely unprepared for. "I should hope not. I'm certainly taking better care of your numbers than your last accountant."

"That's putting it mildly." He pulled out his address book, where he kept current locations on all his clients. "Well, since that's off the table, I do know a place that'll take renters."

She hesitated at that. "That's very thoughtful, but I'm hoping to find something that doesn't require me to pay by week."

B.B.'s smile was sharp. "You mean you have no interest in living in this part of town."

Hortensia lifted her chin. "If I meant that, I would have said that. But as I said before, I would prefer something reliable."

He nodded, expression easing. "I'm thinking this guy'll give you a pretty long lease. Cheap, too."

Hortensia's eyes narrowed again. "I will not allow you to threaten someone for me." When B.B. raised an eyebrow, she cleared her throat and modified the statement. "I would certainly do my best to persuade you to see reason."

He grinned, the genuine pleasure in it sudden enough to startle. "Good. You can move in next week."

Hortensia blinked, utterly lost now. "What?"

"There's two rooms upstairs, and I only use one of them." He leaned back in his seat, looking satisfied. "Not as nice as you're used to, but rent's free and you can stay as long as you need to. Won't even have to threaten anybody."

"I... you can't...." She couldn't remember ever stammering before in her life, but she simply couldn't make her brain work past the shock enough to form a coherent sentence. "B.B., that's...."

The humor fled from his expression. "You can say no, Hortensia." He shifted his chair forward, looking away from her. "I won't bite your head off."

His tone was like a bucket of cold water, jarring her back into functionality. The disappointment in it was far, far too familiar, and the pressure in her chest meant there was only one response she could give. "I'm happy to take the room," she said simply. "Thank you."

He looked up at that, watching her for a long, careful moment. "You sure?" he asked finally.

She felt a slow, shy smile form. "Yes."

There was another beat, then he grinned back at her.


	6. Chapter 6

"Horty, you can't be serious!"

"He's right, sis. There's got to be another way."

Hortensia focused on stirring the soup rather than respond. She'd dreaded telling her brothers about her new living arrangements, but they would have found out on their own when she started packing boxes. This way, she hoped to at least get it over with all at once.

If not, there was at least a chance that the worst of it would be said someplace where B.B. couldn't overhear. She told herself that avoiding that particular confrontation would be best for everyone involved, and tried hard not to think about which of the three of them she was really hoping to protect.

"Are you even listening to us?" Gerald grabbed her shoulder, the new prosthetic hand he'd arrived with gleaming in the light. She deliberately didn't ask him where he got it.

It would only upset her to know.

"Yes," Hortensia said calmly, giving herself the time she needed to carefully set the spoon down before turning to look at them. "I've been listening to both of you, and I appreciate your concern. But, given my situation, I don't see that I have another option."

Technically, that was far from true. But she was certain neither of them would bother doing the research needed to contradict her, and ... well, it just seemed easier than trying to explain.

If she even could. She'd tested the words on herself, hunting valiantly for the ones that had seemed the closest to something true, and they'd sounded foolish and sentimental even to her own ears. She could only imagine how her brothers would take them.

Francis took her hoof between both of his own, eyes wide and worried. "I know how smart you are, H, but you don't understand the ways of the world. You can't trust this wolf, no matter what he says."

_I can't trust you, either_. But that thought was needlessly cruel, and implied that she agreed B.B. couldn't be trusted. "I've been working for him for more than a month, Francis. He hasn't harmed me."

"Just biding his time," Gerald said, waving his new hand derisively. "He still needs to get our money out of you."

Pulling her hoof free of Francis's grip, she turned back to the soup. "Then I should be fine until he does, shouldn't I?"

If the words came out sadder than she meant them, neither of her brothers noticed.


	7. Chapter 7

The door to the office was closed the next morning, which was something of a surprise. Seeing how much trouble she had with her hand, B.B. had begun opening it just enough in the mornings that she could use her hoof. Once inside, she would be the one to shut the door tightly.

Hortensia hesitated, wondering if B.B. had an early client and was giving her a signal to wait outside until he was done. He hadn't taken her up on her offer to leave the room before this, however, and to think he was telling her to do so now required the very large presumption that he gave as much thought to their morning routine as she did. It was far more likely that he had simply forgotten.

Reminding herself to be practical, she rested her hand on the knob and concentrated on getting her fingers to curl. The spell that made it move was actually working fairly quickly for once, so it shouldn't take—

Something from inside the room crashed violently against the door, making it shake.

Hortensia froze, thoughts scattering to the point that she couldn't make her hand move at all. She thought she heard a low growl from just on the other side of the wood, the sound both familiar and not, and she realized with a shock that there was a fight going on inside. For all she knew, it had been B.B. who had just been thrown against the door.

Or he had thrown someone else, in preparation for the kill.

She froze, trying desperately to think through the accounts and figure out who else could possibly be inside. None of his current clients were in nearly as desperate a financial straits as her brothers, and she was paying that debt off far more faithfully than anyone else in the books. There was a weasel in the area who also offered loans, but he and B.B. tended to avoid one another. There was no reason to think that would have changed so dramatically, but there were bears who sometimes hired themselves out as muscle for less than savory individuals. Some of them were much larger than her boss....

There were more crashing noises, and Hortensia swallowed back the fear trying to crawl up her throat. Her fingers began to uncurl without a specific request from her, as if responding to her body rather than her mind, and it was clear no one inside would notice if she ran.

But after a moment, she realized that wouldn't help. The fear wasn't for herself.

Her  fingers stuttered and fought her efforts to make them curl around the knob, seemingly arguing with her decision, but she concentrated more fiercely and forced them to curl into place. She wasn't so foolish as to think she could help, but she might at least give him a chance to escape....

There was a choked sound. Then the sudden silence washed over her, almost as loud as the fight had been.

She stopped again, fingers curled tightly around the knob. When she continued to hear nothing, she leaned her ear against the door in the hopes of picking up some idea of what was happening inside. But there was still only silence.

"B.B.?" she called out, hoping she wasn't somehow making things worse for him.

Inside, she could finally hear someone move. "Hortensia, go home."

She closed her eyes a moment, letting out a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding. B.B. had sounded winded, but surely if he'd been really injured there would be more signs of it in his voice.  He was probably bruised and cut, but no worse than that.

Bandaging, thankfully, was something she knew how to do. Her brothers had gotten into enough fights that it had been a necessary skill to develop. She turned the knob, ready to go in....

It wouldn't budge.

She tried it again, but the door still refused to move. It took her an appallingly long time to process the fact that he'd locked it. "B.B.? I need you to let me in. I'm sure you need some bandaging, and it will be easier if you let me help you."

Slowly, she heard him walk toward the door, but there was no click that would mean the lock was being opened. Instead, she heard his voice close enough to suggest he was leaning close to the door. "I'm fine. Go home."

There was just a little bit of growl under the words. She'd known him long enough now to recognize the warning in it.

Hortensia let out a breath. "I don't think you are fine, B.B."

There was a quiet sound of something coming to rest on the other side of the door, right around the level where his forehead might be. "Just for a few hours, Hortensia. Then you can come back, and we'll both pretend none of this ever happened."

He sounded so tired. She couldn't even begin to imagine what it looked like inside, but suspected that a few spots of red on a ledger would pale in comparison.

It felt so strange for that not to matter. "Listen, it's okay. We can clean up tog—"

"I said GO!"

She backed up a step at his sudden roar, her fingers instantly snapping open as if wanting to help her escape.

Hortensia hesitated, wishing she could see through the wood that blocked her way. "I'll be back in a few hours," she called, voice firm if more emotional than she would have liked. "I can check your bandages before we get back to work."

The only response was silence. Finally, not knowing what else to, she left.


	8. Chapter 8

Her brothers caught her before she made it home.

"We have a plan," Gerald crowed, prosthetic fingers curling around her arm as he tugged her into the small rental property he and Francis shared. "You won't have to worry about a _thing_ anymore."

Certain neither of her brothers had any clue what she worried about, Hortensia turned to Francis as Gerald shut the door behind him. "What are you talking about?"

"This." There was a gleam in Francis's eyes as he stepped forward, holding out a small metal object shaped like a boat. "It's a spell charm sailors use when they're stuck on calm seas. It's a windstorm you can call on command."

She looked down at the charm, then back up at her brother. "Where did you get that?" she asked carefully, feeling suddenly cold.

"A little sleight of hand in a witch's shop the next town over." Gerald wiggled his fake fingers, sounding delighted with himself.

Only Francis had the dignity to look faintly embarrassed. "The tables again," he murmured, almost apologetic, then he shook off the guilt as if it had never been. Once again shining with resolve, he stepped forward enough to set the charm in the palm of Hortensia's metal hand. "But it will be worth it the long run, I promise you." He curled her prosthetic fingers around it. "This will set you _free_."

Their earlier conversation filtered back, a lead weight in her stomach. _You shouldn't trust the wolf, no matter what he says._ "No." She held onto the charm as she backed away from her brother, sure it would be safer in her hands. "Absolutely not."

"I know, I know," Francis soothed, the words making it clear he had no idea what Hortensia had meant. "It's scary. But you can do this, H."

"Do what?" She couldn't imagine what damage they meant to do with a wind charm, and was momentarily grateful they hadn't managed to get their hands on something genuinely lethal. But she knew that whatever idea they had spinning through their heads wasn't good. "How do you expect this to help anything?"

"You'll blow his building down!" Gerald chimed in, clearly feeling as though he wasn't being paid enough attention to. "While he's asleep tonight, you set off the charm and hurry out of the building. It'll collapse, the wolf'll get squashed, and we can dig the safe out of the rubble!"

Horror swamped her, the protest that had risen up turning into a strangled sound in her throat. Seeing it, Francis shot Gerald a death glare and moved towards her. "There's a 10 second delay after you activate the charm, and to do that all you have to do is jab it into the wood." He tried taking her hoof in his, looking alarmed when she flinched away. "This is the solution you were looking for, H! You'll get a third of the contents of the safe, which means you'll have more than enough money not to have to move into that death trap!"

She forced her voice to work. "No," she tried again, shaking her head to emphasize the point. "I won't do this, Francis. You can't make me."

Gerald made a disgusted noise, all good humor gone. "I told you she couldn't handle it, Francis." He reached for the charm, glaring at her when she yanked her hand away. "If you won't do it, we will. You just won't get a warning or the cut of the money."

She backed up a step. "This is a _crime_ , you two."

Francis sighed. "I told you the tables haven't been kind. And it turns out the weasel isn't as agreeable as the wolf when it comes to making arrangements." As Gerald moved closer, he tried his sympathetic face on her again. "This is for the best, H. Really. It's such a simple little thing."

Hortensia stared at them both, knowing there was no way she could keep them far enough away from B.B.'s building not to use the charm. And if she told B.B. about this, he would eat them both in a heartbeat. He would have every right to.

All this time, and she still hated all her options.

"There has to be another way," she tried, one more time. "Aren't you the one who said that?"

"Not for us," Francis soothed. "Sleep on it, H. You'll see we're right."

Hortensia nodded. All of her concentration was on her hand, slowly working her metal fingers so that the charm was caught beneath the edge of her thumb. She moved the hand a little behind her back as a corner of the sail appeared in view.

"So all I have to do is jab it into the wood?" she asked, voice carefully blank. "Then I have 10 seconds to run."

"Exactly." Gerald smiled suddenly. "Turns out you really are as smart as Francis says."

She nodded, feeling sick. Then she turned and headed for the door, hesitating on the threshold. She lifted her prosthetic hand, resting it against the rickety frame.

Hortensia turned to look over her shoulder.


	9. Chapter 9

The moment echoed in her mind as she stood in the middle of the street, staring at the pile of rubble in front of her. She felt numb, the sounds of curious neighbors sounding like they were coming from far away. The buildings next door had been severely damaged, her brothers having misjudged the charm's strength, and she didn't dare look at anyone too closely in case more people had been hurt.

Hortensia didn't think she could handle that, right now.

A goat stalked toward her, shouting, his prosthetic hands shiny and well-oiled as he grabbed her by the arm and started to shake her. "I recognize you! You're their sister! Those two losers wrecked my building! You tell me where they are, or I swear I'll make you pay for every penny they—"

There was a low growl from somewhere behind her. "Let go of her. _Now_."

Hortensia didn't dare turn, but the air finally seemed willing to make it back into her lungs as a pair of furry hands came to rest on her shoulders. The goat backed away, still looking angry. "I am _owed_ for what happened—"

"Not by her." His voice changed just a little, the same way it did when he bared his teeth at someone. "She's got nothing to do with this. Now _find someone else to harass_."

The goat fled, and Hortensia finally turned around to look at B.B. His fur was damp, as if he'd just cleaned it, and there was a bandage just above his eye. He moved his hands back to his sides. "Yeah, I know, no threatening. Sorry."

"Don't be." Her voice was scratchy, and she swallowed. "This time it was okay."

His hands half lifted, but he forced them back to his sides. He turned to look at the wreck of a house, then back at Hortensia. "Want to tell me what happened?" he asked quietly, the words gentle.

She wiped a hoof against dusty, suddenly stinging eyes. "They're alive, if that's what you're asking. I gave them a warning."

"That's not what I was asking." His hands settled back on her shoulders. "I'm asking what happened."

"I knew I wouldn't be able to keep them out of your building all the time." Her voice was a whisper as she looked up. "They wouldn't listen to me when I said no."

He looked over at the building, staring at it for a long, silent moment. Then he pulled her into a quick, hard hug.

When he let her go again, she took a deep breath. "So it's good we have our arrangement set up," she tried, voice steadier now. "Because I'm pretty sure that's the only way you're getting your money."

He shook his head. "Debt's cleared."

A sudden, ludicrous panic flickered in her chest. "But...."

B.B. grinned suddenly. "Oh, I'm not losing the best accountant I've ever had.  I've just got to start paying her more."

Her mouth curved upward into a slow smile. "That sounds very sensible of you."

His expression softened as he rested a hand on her shoulder again. "I try."

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to read more about this universe, ome check out my [blog](http://jennifferwardell.blogspot.com) or say hi to me on [Tumblr](http://sanctuaryforalluniverses.tumblr.com)!


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